


ni kar'tayli gar darasuum

by JamOnToast



Series: pedro pascal character fics [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Other, reader is also a mandalorian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:00:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29882865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamOnToast/pseuds/JamOnToast
Summary: Din and his riduur remove their helmets for the first time(written before i watched most of star wars)
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader
Series: pedro pascal character fics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2197095
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	ni kar'tayli gar darasuum

**Author's Note:**

> also posted on my tumblr @pumpkin-stars

It’s been years since anyone saw his face, years since anyone saw your own. But now at last, your bond with Din - your  _ Riddur _ \- is confirmed. For so long, the Keldabe kiss is the only intimate contact you’ve had with one another, aside from entwined fingers and warm embraces. The Mando’an act dictated by your creed - no shared meals, no totally comfortable nights beside each other, no way to breath unfiltered air before him, to see his face light up with a smile, left to wonder what the face - and the body - behind the beskar is like.

You’d caught a glimpse of his chin many years ago - in the last moments of swearing your creed, when your mentors stepped to the side around the fire, allowing you to place your helmets on for the first time, your eyes flicking upward through your new visor to see the other foundling doing the same, nodding at each other through the flames in acknowledgement of taking up the same creed, at the same time, in the same place.

And here, now, in the hold of your ship, the  _ Razor Crest _ hurtling away from Nevarro at hyperspeed, silver Mudhorns newly embossed on your pauldrons, the kid sleeping in his little hammock where he won’t disturb you… Din’s hands unfasten your armour slowly, his forehead pressed to yours. Deep and heavy breaths pass through your modulators, shaky fingers unclasp beskar from fabric, eyes lock with eyes through dark visors.

You’ve always felt exposed without your armour - vulnerable. But with Din it’s okay. You know you’re safe together, always have been, always will be. Soon, you stand before each other, two piles of beskar at your feet, two helmets firmly in place. It’s usual for you, when you’re not running for your lives. The moments of quiet and companionship, where it’s  _ good _ to be vulnerable, where you retire to your shared bunk and drift off to sleep with your head against his.

This isn’t usual, however.

His hands trail up your arms, resting against your helmet for a moment before you take them into your own, interlocking your fingers with a shaky exhale. Bare skin on bare skin for the first time, matching callouses doing nothing to dampen the softness of him, such a contrast against the leather that usually covers you.

“ _ Riddur _ ,” he breathes, “We don’t have to right away.”

You squeeze his hands, assuring that “I want to,  _ Cyar’ika _ .”

His forehead presses more firmly against yours for a second before he draws back two paces, moving his hands to his helmet as you watch him.

Your eyes fall shut of their own accord as he lifts the beskar, the slight hiss of its release and the clunk of Din setting it down sending your heart pounding. You hear him step closer, and your hands move up to your own helmet. “ _ Ni tar’tayli gar darasuum _ , Din Djarin.”

“I love you too,  _ Cyar’ika _ .” He assures, voice so different without a modulator.

You hesitate.

“ _ Darasuum _ ,” His hands fall to your hips. “My eyes are closed,  _ cyare _ .”

You remove your helmet. He lets you go long enough to set it down with the rest of your armour, then pulls you back to him, the usual keldabe kiss bringing you closer without layers separating you… warmer as his skin touches yours… softer…

Shaking hands reach to his cheeks and you cup his face gently, fingers twitching as you explore the lines of his jaw, the curve of his ears, the soft curls of his hair. He squeezes tight at your hips, and you reach one hand down at a time to guide his upwards, letting him follow the same movements against your skin.

His nose brushes yours and you both gasp, your bottom lip quaking at such intimate contact.

His thumb traces your cheekbone as he whispers “you’re the only person who’s touched my face since I was a child.”

“You’re the only person who’s face I’ve ever touched.” You return, just as quietly.

The words are unnecessary, you know Din has kept to the creed just as much as you have, but it seems right to vocalise the weight of this moment, the importance of feeling each other for the first time - of his breath hitting your chin, the curve of his nose against yours, the path of the tears running down your faces as you get the contact you hadn’t realised you’ve been craving since childhood.

You stay still, eyes closed and contented for some time - seconds, minutes, hours… neither of you care. Time doesn’t exist in this moment, it’s only your breaths that mark its passing.

Eventually you shift, one of his hands moving to the back of your head, one of yours falling to his chest. You press closer against him, head tilting to one side, burying your nose into his neck. His chest heaves, and his breath leaves him shakily as you breathe him in, blood and sweat and blaster residue filling your senses - it’s a smell you’ve long associated with Din, with the  _ Crest _ , with home, but now, without a helmet filtering out the worst of it, you find something uniquely  _ him _ mixed in.

As your lips brush his pulse-point, his knees quake, and your name leaves his lips.

“Din…” You return, trailing kisses up to the coarse hair on his jaw. You follow its line upward, moving his head every which way, kissing every millimeter of skin you find, down the slope of his brow, along his cheekbones to the edge of his moustache, down his nose, that little patch of bare flesh between his lips and his chin… Kissing lines back up his cheeks to clear the tracks of tears.

He’s positively melted against you, every breath a sigh.

He takes your cheeks in both hands after a moment, returning each and every kiss you’d gifted him. His lips are slightly chapped, but soft. The bottom one is plumper than the top, and he lets it trail against your skin as he draws path after path against you. He pauses at the juncture of your neck and jaw, laving attention on one spot, and your hands shoot into his hair, tugging at the slightly-matted curls.

“ _ Riddur _ ,” you gasp, pulling his forehead back to yours.

It takes another moment. A second, minute, hour…

But then he tilts his head  _ just so _ , brushing his lips against yours for the first time.

You hold each other there, equal pressure, just basking in the feeling. Tears fall once more, and it’s not until the taste of salt reaches your mouths that you pull away. You keep your heads together, needing to maintain the contact after so long without it.

And your eyes flicker open, taking him in visually for the first time ever.

The swooped curve of his nose, the lines of his face that have formed with age, the few scars across his brow, the slight beard and thicker moustache in what automatically becomes your favourite style, the curl of his hair and the contours of his cheeks and brow… His oh-so-expressive eyes.

They roam over your face, hands cupping your cheeks to part you ever so slightly. “Maker…” he breathes, the deep brown of his iris shrouded by the dilated black of his pupils.

“I always wondered what your eyes were like.” You whisper, tongue flicking out to wet your lips. It draws his attention immediately.

“And?” He whispers back, one eyebrow quirking upward.

His face is so expressive, and you can’t hold back the grin that forms as you catalogue each small movement. It won’t be the last time you see his face, but now you can you want to remember every single detail.

You kiss him once more, pulling away only to say “ _ Mesh’la _ , Din.”

His matching smile is blinding. “As are you,  _ Cyar’ika _ .”


End file.
